If you love somebody
by louella
Summary: What is Gene thinking? Has he changed his mind about Alex? Or is there something else going on? Rated M for mature content.


**AN – set shortly after episode five, series two. A bit of a departure for me, this one's written entirely from Gene's POV. Kind of a struggle - hope it works.**

Sodding trout and flaming almonds. That's when it had started. Followed very quickly by her oh-so-casual rebuff when he'd suggested they undertake a little light Western watching together. He cringed when he looked back, at his fumbling, inarticulate attempts at courtship and seduction. He wasn't remotely surprised that she'd turned him down. Christ, he'd have turned himself down.

So he'd decided to give it up as a bad job. It was that final kick in the teeth that did it, there in the candlelight at Luigi's, making him realise that if he was going to escape this whole unedifying debacle with anything like his pride intact, he was going to have to change. Cut back on the clumsy one-liners, give up on trying to persuade her to accept his advances. Give her some – God he hated the term – space.

She'd barely noticed at first. She'd been oddly affected by the death of the Prices and wandered around in a daze for longer than he should have allowed. By the time she'd got back to her normal self he'd become used to this new approach and was happy to treat her like any other DI; no more gags about her bra size, focus instead on how she did her job. It was easier than he'd thought it would be.

The odd thing was, as he'd shifted his attention from her derriere to her competence, he'd begun to notice how good she was at her job. It wasn't that she'd been hopeless before; not really. It was more that she'd begun to take it more seriously, to take him more seriously. And he liked that. More than he'd admit to her.

He'd tried to stop wanting her, stop caring about her, take control once again of his emotions and desires. Unfortunately, in his more honest moments he would admit that he hadn't succeeded. He still dreamed of her with disappointing regularity. Still couldn't muster any real enthusiasm for any other woman, no matter how much he'd rather be with someone who wanted him in return. So he'd pushed on, his personal life in some kind of limbo, taking comfort from the fact that she appeared to be growing to respect him, like him even, enjoy his company.

And that was the odd thing. Over the months since the Prices' deaths, as she'd settled back down to the daily grind, it seemed that she had in fact begun to respond to him. Really respond to him, as a man, not just her Guv. He hadn't yet allowed himself to succumb to the cruelty of hope, but he had spotted the change in her and it intrigued him.

After everything he'd been through, he wasn't about to risk yet another rejection from her. No matter how tempted he was, how much she fluttered her eyelashes at him, he wasn't going to make any kind of move on her unless he was absolutely sure he knew it would be welcomed. And not a one-night stand, either. He had to know that she wanted him, really wanted him, otherwise the consequences might be more than he could handle.

~ o O o ~

He took the bottle of chianti from Luigi and carried it over to the corner table, taking the seat opposite Alex. Pouring them each a healthy measure he raised his glass to her in a silent toast. She smiled across at him, taking a long swallow of red, then set the glass on the table top, playing with the stem. He stared at her for a moment before looking away.

The day had gone well, they'd charged a man they'd been pursuing on a rape allegation, and on the table next to them the rest of the team was rowdy, celebrating in true B-Division style. Chris had flung an arm across Shaz's shoulders, pulling her body close to his, and she had a hand on his thigh as she joined in with tuneless singing. Alex watched Gene as he scowled across at them.

"I know you don't approve, but I think it's sweet."

"Eh?" He turned his attention back to Alex. "What don't I approve of?"

"Chris and Shaz. They're so happy, at the start of their life together. So many plans, so much optimism. Haven't yet had to live through the many disappointments life's bound to throw their way."

"Cheery soul, you are. And who says I don't approve?"

Alex shifted in her seat and looked momentarily uncomfortable as she took a slug from her glass. After a pause, she mumbled, "I suppose I just assumed…"

A pulse beat at the corner of Gene's eye as he considered her words. "Why would you assume that, Bolly?" he asked deliberately.

"Oh, you know," she shrugged, her breezy tone not altogether convincing. "Relationships in the workplace, always cause complications." She flicked a hand at her hair as colour flooded her throat, her cheeks, and her gaze roamed the room. Gene's eyes didn't shift from her face.

"Is that right, Bolly?"

She caught her bottom lip in her teeth, staring at the fingers she was drumming on table top. Finally she dragged her eyes up to meet his, squirming slightly, seemingly lost for words. Well, that was something, at any rate. Gene pulled his lips into a pout, eyes drilling into hers, waiting, waiting.

"You don't agree, then?" she asked when the silence stretched to breaking point. He shrugged.

"Makes no difference to me who Chris is poking. As long as it doesn't affect the job. Too much."

"Right…" She stopped, flustered, and bent quickly to pick up her bag. "Look. It's time I was off."

"Don't go yet," he said softly. "Just getting interesting."

She sighed and laid her hands flat on the table, shaking her head. "You know, I used to think it meant something. All those silly comments, the smutty innuendo. But it didn't, did it? Didn't mean anything at all."

How was he meant to answer that? He wasn't going to get sucked into another verbal tennis match. Absolutely wasn't going to be the first one to give in. He'd set her free; it was up to her whether she came back to him. So he ignored the pleading look in her eyes and forced his features to remain impassive. "Do you miss it?"

She was avoiding his gaze again as she took a sip from her wine glass. "Gene, it's late," she mumbled, "and this conversation's going nowhere. See you tomorrow."

He watched as she slipped out of her chair, pushing through the door that would lead to her flat above the restaurant. He itched to follow her, make her confess to him, brand her with his own particular iron. But he stayed put, knowing that unless she came to him voluntarily it would mean nothing at all.

~ o O o ~

Eventually, after a few more bottles and a few more choruses of We Are The Champions, the rest of the team followed Alex's lead and headed off for their beds. Gene, though, remained alone at the table, packet of fags and a bottle of scotch for company. He glanced at the clock – just after midnight – and ground the cigarette stub in the ashtray. Time to go. Long since time to go, really, but his own empty house held little appeal at the best of times and this didn't feel like the best of times.

He'd stuffed his wallet and fag packet into his pocket and was about to pull his jacket over his shoulders when he heard the click of the door. He looked up slowly, knowing what he was going to see but disbelieving all the same. "What's the matter?" he growled. "Can't sleep?"

She'd changed out of her work clothes into leggings and an outsize jumper. His insides flipped when he noticed her bare feet. She gave a slight shrug, picking her way towards him. "Seems not."

He watched as she came to a stop next to the table. "Something on your mind?"

Picking up Gene's discarded tumbler, she poured herself a finger of scotch and downed it. She stood resting her hip against the back of a chair, staring into the flame at the centre of the table. "Not my mind, exactly."

He blinked. Wanted to look at her eyes but she was avoiding his gaze. "Are you going to sit down?" She shook her head. He rose from his own seat and walked towards her, his body at an angle to her, his hand next to hers on the chair back. She swallowed.

"What you asked me before," she whispered. "I do. I do miss it."

Gene felt his heart begin to race in his chest, prickles breaking out across his skin. "Is that right?" he murmured, edging towards her. "Why is that, do you think?"

She was so close, he could feel the heat from her skin, the uncertainty that radiated from her body. It would be so easy to close the gap, to steal a kiss, maybe more. Could he do it? Was the undoubted reward worth the heart-breaking risk? He couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't think. No good. She would have to come to him.

"Gene," she breathed, finally turning her eyes to his. What he saw there sucked the air from his body. He couldn't be wrong about it, not this time. His gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips. Mistake. That wasn't helping his self control. He held himself rigid, lest he give in to the desires raging within him.

"Yes," he mumbled, although whether it was a question or an answer he wasn't sure.

A moment passed, an eternity, then she nodded, whispering, "Yes." She turned her face towards his, only inches away, edging ever closer until her lips brushed his in the softest of kisses.

He couldn't breathe, wanted to swallow her whole. Didn't move. She pulled away, a wrinkle of confusion across her brow. "Gene?" she murmured, laying a hand on his lapel. "Don't you want –"

The rest of her words were lost as Gene's lips crashed down on hers, months of fierce longing poured into the passionate kiss, his tongue pushing into her mouth, teeth nipping her lips, hands sliding around her waist, pulling her against him from mouth to hip.

His whole body responded to her, on fire for her. His blood raced as she curved against him, whimpering into his mouth as he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue against hers. Gene's hand was making its way around her ribcage, his fingertips brushing the curve at the bottom of her breast, when the sound of a door slamming shut broke them apart, panting and flushed.

"Signor Hunt," smiled Luigi from the corner of the restaurant as he succeeded in looking both delighted and apologetic at the same time. "Signorina Drake. I go to bed now. You two should go to bed too. Is better than the middle of a restaurant." He bustled away, humming a romantic aria under his breath.

"Right," Gene muttered, watching Alex as she stared at the floor, fingers playing with the hem of the ridiculous jumper she wore. He caught her hand, brought it to his lips, kissed the pads of her fingers one by one until she looked up at him. She wasn't going to back out now, was she? He almost sagged with relief at the wicked smile she sent him, closing her fingers around his hand and pulling him out of the restaurant and up the stairs to her flat.

They barely made it through the door before he was on her again, his mouth at her neck, pushing her against the wall, pulling at her clothes. He felt her hands at his neck, loosening his tie, tugging his shirt from the waistband of his trousers, slipping the buttons from their holes and sliding her hands across his chest, around his back. Her fingers felt warm, soft on his skin, and he groaned at her touch.

Part of him could scarcely believe what was happening, that she was kissing him with such abandon, that her hands were exploring his body with such undisguised eagerness. He'd wanted it for so long, fantasised about having her, being taken by her, and he was half afraid that he'd wake and find this was just a spectacularly good dream. But the warmth of her flesh beneath his fingers seemed real enough, as did her sighs and moans of desire as he cupped her arse, pulling her against his aching erection.

"Want you, Alex," he mumbled against her neck, shrugging out of his jacket and shirt, kicking off his boots. He was desperate to be inside her but wasn't going to shag her against the wall, she wasn't a bloody tom. "Bedroom," he gasped, tearing himself away from her, staring into her lust-glazed eyes, dragging her along the corridor and crashing through the bedroom door.

They tumbled together onto the bed, bodies pressed close, hands and mouths busy exploring. Rolling her to her back, he peeled off her leggings, tracing circles along her skin and dropping kisses as he went. "Beautiful," he murmured, "knew you'd be beautiful."

She pushed him to his back and pulled off his trousers, his boxers and socks quickly following, then she was above him, straddling him, kissing his mouth, his neck, her hands tangling in his hair, trailing across his chest, pleasuring and tormenting in equal measure. He tugged at the hem of her absurd jumper, pulling it over her head, and bit back a groan as he saw that she wasn't wearing a bra.

Her hand moved further down his body, past his belly, and she smiled at his grunts of desire. Taking hold of him, his thick shaft hot and solid in her hand, she stroked slowly, firmly, watching as his eyes slid closed.

Desperately clinging to his self-control, he eased her hand away and pulled her back towards him, taking a nipple into his mouth, licking across the tight peak, sucking hard, an arm around her waist to hold her steady as she squirmed above him, driving him even closer to the edge. "Gene," she murmured, "please, more." His insides went into a tailspin. He wouldn't last much longer, couldn't wait any more.

Flipping her back to the mattress, he tugged away the small triangle of satin and lace and slipped a finger inside her, slid gently in and out, groaning at her slick readiness, the way she bucked against his hand. She moaned in pleasure, incoherent pleading, urging him on. Lowering his head he swirled his tongue against her clit, breathing in the scent of her, drinking in her taste. Her mewls and sighs danced through his head, making him want more. He knew with a terrifying certainty that he'd always want more.

Raising his body above her, he positioned himself between her knees, staring down at her. She returned his gaze, breathless, eyes dark with desire, glowing with need, and he was lost. For whatever reason, right now she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He slid into her, eyes closed, focused on the feeling of her tight around him, desperate to come inside her, wanting it to last forever.

"Gene," she panted, her eyes wide, hands gripping his shoulders, tilting her hips to take all of him, pushing against the mattress to meet his thrusts. "Feel so good, you feel so good…"

She was perfect, felt amazing, looked breathtaking, and he knew he was close. He hooked a hand under her knee, raising it so she was opened yet wider to him, allowing him to thrust even deeper. She moaned into his shoulder, sucked on his neck, whispered encouragement into his ear, until the effort of holding back became almost painful. Thrusting faster, harder, she shouted his name as she tightened around him, clinging on to him as she fell back to earth. It was more than he could stand and he followed her into oblivion, a flash of blinding pleasure as he flooded into her, collapsing onto her, holding her tight.

His breathing slowly returned to normal, his heart stopped pumping so fast, and he became aware that his weight was crushing her to the mattress. "Sorry," he grunted, rolling away, lying alongside her.

"Sorry?" There was a tiny crease in her brow, a hint of confusion in her eyes.

"For squashing you. Not for…" He gestured to the bed, pulling her into the crook of his arm, her head on his shoulder.

"Good," she mumbled. "Not sorry either."

"Good." He watched as she drifted off, curled into his side, her even breathing and the steady rise and fall of her chest showing him that her sleep was peaceful. He planted a gentle kiss on the top of her head and pulled her closer. He'd set her free and she'd come back to him. Maybe, just maybe, she'd come again.


End file.
